Disparue
by Pink Hair and Roses
Summary: Abby is gone. Tim will do anything to find her.  Warning: Rape and abuse
1. Chapter 1

Disparue

Chapter 1

**A/N - No ownage here. Maybe some Pwnage, though…**

Tim McGee strode into the bullpen, a smile on his face and a swagger in his step. This was not the baby-faced, green (sometimes literally as well as figuratively on the more graphic crime scenes) agent with the stutter and the double chin of five years ago. He was confident. Successful. _Happy. _He was good at his job, both behind the computer screen and out in the field. On their last case, he had found the intel to solve the case and made the collar. Solo. And he had finally, finally gotten the girl.

Abby Sciuto. Forensic whiz and his everything. They had been together for a short while after they first met. Then they weren't. At the time, they wanted different things; he was ready to jump in with both feet, she was still into taking things as they came, one day at a time. The sleeping together part of the relationship fizzled out but they remained close. And then closer. And then they were best of friends.

When Abby fell hard for Marty, he stored that information in the back of his head, wondering if maybe she was gearing up to settle down. And maybe, just maybe, she would choose to settle down with him. He knew she prickled when he mentioned a new girl he was seeing. And if she happened to be around when he flirted (or hell, was even flirted with)? Watch out. Erin, Jules, even Susan Grady had felt the wrath of Abby.

A few days after their trip to Mexico, he suggested they get together after work for a drink. Abby had seemed really, really upset since they had gotten home. He hoped like hell it was nothing he did (like the fat joke? Smooth move, McGee). One drink turned into two, which turned into several more…

_They stumbled out of the bar at closing time, giggling and holding each other up. They hopped into a waiting cab, neither being in any shape to drive. _

"_Where to?"_

_Abby and Tim each gave their own address at the same time and then fell into another fit of giggles. Clearing his throat, McGee insisted that they just go to his place to save on cab fare. He could bunk out on the couch. After all, they lived in opposite directions…_

_He managed to get the key into the lock on the third or fourth try. Abby leaned against the door just as Tim turned the knob. She grabbed him as she started to fall and they landed in a tangle of arms and legs just over the threshold. The giggles started up again._

"_You OK, Abbs?"_

_She looked up and their eyes locked. The giggles stopped like they had been cut off. She leaned forward with a questioning look in her eyes and brushed her lips against his. His heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest. His mind was completely clear. He stood up and closed the door, locking the deadbolt. He scooped her into his arms (much more gracefully than he ever could have when they were dating) and carried her into his bedroom. Laying her gently on his bed, he kissed her eyes, her nose, her forehead. His lips grazed her spider web tattoo before he looked into her eyes again._

"_You sure about this, Abbs?"_

_She bit her lip and looked down for a moment. Then she caught his eyes again, green on green. _

"_More than anything."_

_Later that night, after their breathing had slowed and their bodies cooled, he gathered her to him, bare back against bare chest. He sighed happily. He was ecstatic. He was confused. He was scared as hell. His body tensed. She reached back and rubbed his hip with her hand._

"_Shhh, Timmy."_

_Suddenly, she turned around and looked into his eyes again. This time, he couldn't meet them. She turned his chin toward her with one finger. "Look at me, Tim. I know that you know that I'm probably not quite on the same page as you on this. I have never been about white picket fences and little Suzy and Tim Jr and a dog named Spot." He tried to look away again, but that was a very determined finger. "But I love you, McGee. Not just like puppies. And maybe we can be about you and me and a dog named Jethro now, and worry about the rest down the road."_

They had been practically inseparable ever since. She slowly moved her things from her apartment to his and she had recently hung up a sublet available ad in the neighbourhood.

Practically inseparable, that is, until this week. She was attending a forensics conference in Las Vegas. He would be joining her there on Thursday night, and they would have to whole weekend to themselves, far away from any on-call weekend duty. And, while being away from each other sucked, the somewhat naughty video conference they had last night after she'd gotten settled in to her hotel room had certainly eased the pain, not to mention the pressure, of separation.

He checked his email and saw a new one from Abby, sent couple of hours after their digital tryst. His smile grew even wider when he saw that there was a video attached.

He clicked the video file icon and leaned back with a grin, knowing that it would be rated PG if it was sent to the account he regularly accessed from his work computer.

At first he couldn't make out what he was seeing. Then a light, presumably from the reading lamp on the hotel bedside table, came on. Abby was asleep on the bed, the same bed she had she had teased and taunted him on last night, scrunching up her eyes at the new light in the dark room. A man wearing a leather bondage mask and worn jeans came onscreen. He grabbed her hair and pulled, waking her the rest of the way. She started to scream and he punched her in the face, in the chest, in the gut. He grabbed a roll of duct tape from off-screen, tore off a piece and slapped it over her mouth. Wound another around her wrists. She fought and kicked, thrashing her head back and forth, while he ripped off her pajamas.

"Abby. No…" Tim leaned forward in his chair. "No. No. No."

The man pulled a knife from a sheath on his belt and hit her on the the jaw with its shaft. Holding the blade against her throat, he undid his belt and pushed down his jeans one-handed. Abby stopped struggling, her head lolling to the side, facing the camera as the man entered her. Tim looked into Abby's eyes as a tear rolled down both of their cheeks.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Abby sat in the corner of a small, dusty room, her arms wrapped tight around her knees. A manacle gripped her ankle, chafing it raw; a 5 foot chain ran to a hasp bolted into the floor. She had tried to pull it out, to rock it loose, but it wouldn't budge. She had also tried kicking in the walls. She had made it through the sheetrock on two, but the jagged holes had revealed nothing but two more empty rooms. She couldn't reach the other walls with her feet. An older home, she guessed, well away from the noise and traffic of the city. She had been soaked with sweat, both from exertion and the heat. Wherever she was, it was hot as hell and there wasn't any air conditioning. Now, though… Now there was no sweat.

_When she had awoken to the light in her eyes and then her hair being pulled, her only thoughts had been fight or flight. Get him away or incapacitated long enough to get out. Scream. Find help. But she hadn't stood a chance. Before she could even attempt to get away, he hit her and hit her and hit her. She tasted the copper of her blood, the duct tape over her mouth sealing it in. So glad that it was just a drop, not enough to choke on, to drown in. After her hands had been bound and she was hit in the face with the butt of the knife, she knew that struggling was useless. When she stopped fighting and her mind registered the mask, she hoped against hope that he would just get what he wanted and get the fuck out. She hadn't seen his face. She couldn't identify him._

_She hurt like hell and knew that it was only going to get worse. She decided to just check out for a little bit, letting her body relax before attempting to find her happy place. When her head fell to the side and she saw her laptop open on the second bed, the blue webcam LED on and the screen full of her and, above her, the man removing his jeans, she knew that the mask wasn't for her benefit. That was when part of her gave up. There would be no happy place tonight. Or probably ever._

But she was still alive. She hurt pretty much all over and she had no idea where she was and she was hot and dying of thirst, but she was alive.

Dying of thirst. That hadn't even made her top three. Tony's either. She was pretty sure, though, that being eaten by a shark would be a lot quicker than this. Probably more pleasant, too.

She knew that Tim would have missed her when she didn't call after Tuesday's lectures, and McGee was a born worrier. She also knew that it wouldn't have taken much convincing to get Gibbs on board to help, too. Surely the Gibbs gut would lead them to her. So all she could do was wait. And pray. And hope like hell that the masked marvel didn't come back.

Unless he brought some water.

"I'd cut off my left foot for a Caf-Pow! Make that the right. Two birds with one stone, Sciuto! Cut off the foot, ditch the fucking bracelet, drink some Caf-Pow! and hop on out of here." Her dry lips split when she grinned, a small trail of blood running down from the corner of her mouth. She wasn't aware of her tongue darting out to catch it. Her body craved moisture and just about any would do at this point.

There was a smallish window high up on an opposite wall, boarded over. It let in enough light for her to know that she had been awake for two nights and three days, and it was starting to get dark again. There was a very tender bruise on her upper arm with a small red pinprick in the middle, and she wasn't sure exactly how long she'd been unconscious before she had woken up here, alone. Unfortunately, she remembered everything up to and including the injection with startling clarity. And, even worse, her mind wouldn't stop replaying it on a loop, like a catchy song she couldn't get out of her head. She refused to sleep, afraid she's miss a sound from outside. Afraid that the dreams would be even worse than the reality. Afraid she would be taken by surprise again.

She had walked the arc, back and forth, from one wall to another, as far from the corner as the chain would allow, over and over and over again. She alternated pacing and sitting, refusing to lie down lest she fall asleep. Whenever she started to drowse, she would get up and pace some more. She was still barefoot, again in her skeleton pajamas (_he must have put them back on after he knocked me out_). Her hair was loose around her shoulders, tangled and dirty.

There was no toilet. She had waited as long as she could on the first day before getting to the end of the chain on one wall and peeing as close to it as she could. Of course, she hadn't had to go at all in well over 24 hours. After almost 3 days without water, she wished she'd found a way to recycle.

"You're cracking up, Abbs." She licked her lips as she rocked, the rasping of her dry tongue doing nothing to ease the sting. She almost took pleasure from the sound. Talking to herself was nothing new for Abby, but she had been having whole conversations with everyone from Bert to Harry the janitor. And she was almost starting to believe that they were talking back. Growing up with two deaf parents, she had spent much of her youth in silence. Out on her own, she craved noise. She listened to her music at ear-shattering decibels; she talked almost incessantly to her friends, to her machines, to herself; she loved clubs and concerts and motorcycles and had even enjoyed the tractor pull that Billy Bob had dragged her to that time. She still enjoyed the quiet, but only on her terms.

These were about as far from her terms as she could get.

"Timmy, please. I don't… I can't… Find me, Timmy."


End file.
